Deception
by Sonijanu54
Summary: Hermione and Fred married and seperated. Now their lives bring them back together. Fred's sick, and Hermione has to take care of him. But there is one little problem...
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I am so sorry that I have not updated in such a long time. I've been busy with Badminton and I hardly have time to do my HW. I am also stuck on Back In time. I have only half a chapter written and I don't know how to continue. I am trying this new story, Deception, inspired by an awesome book I read by Christina Dodd. It's going to be rated M. You'll find out why later. Well hope u like it. Please review. **This story takes place in the 1400s. The characters we know to be witches and wizards are still witches and wizards.**

Disclaimers: I am mixing Christina Dodd's story and Harry Potter's characters, just because I can't come up with a good plot on my own, so I don't own anything related to this story.

* * *

Chapter 1: Deception

She was standing in the church, facing her husband-to-be, while the priest continued with the ceremony. She considered herself lucky. After all, she was going to be Mrs. Fred Weasley in few short minutes. It was a very emotional day for her.

Almost everyone that was important in Hermione's life was missing. Hermione's parents had been killed by Voldemort himself a few years ago, at her last year at Hogwarts. She was an orphan now. She had wished her father would have given her away at her wedding. Mr. Weasley would have been her second choice, but Fred's family had disowned Fred and had refused to talk to Hermione when they found out about Fred and Hermione's decision to get married. George had been extremely hateful. They had hoped that their affair would end in few short weeks, instead Fred and Hermione had been together for about nine months when Fred asked Hermione to marry him. Hermione couldn't have been any happier. Harry and Ron were in training. They had become aurors; they were not allowed to contact anyone for a period of three years.

But Hermione wouldn't allow herself to think about all the emptiness in her life; her life was about to be filled with love and happiness. She was thinking about the day when Fred had proposed.

**Flashback:**

Hermione and Fred were on a picnic near a forest. It had been eight months since they had gotten together. Hermione felt as though her life couldn't get any better.

"You've never told me what you do to make living, Fred?" Hermione asked.

"I steal." Fred had replied mischievously. "I stole your heart, remember. What more do I need?" Hermione laughed.

"No seriously, Fred, what do you do?" Hermione asked, this time seriously.

"There has to be something you don't know about me, that you will learn after our wedding." Fred had replied suavely.

"W-wedding?" Fred had managed to make Hermione speechless.

"Weel, yes. I was planning on asking you after a few months, but I don't think I can wait that long." Fred had gotten on his knees, while Hermione sat on a bench. He pulled out a diamond ring and said, "Hermione Jane Granger, will you change your name to Hermione Jane Granger Weasley?" Hermione laughed. "Oh, before that, would you please marry me, not one of my brothers?" Hermione's eye filled iwht tears, and she kissed him.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'." Fred whispered in her ear.

**End Flashback.**

Hermione gazed lovingly in Fred's eyes; they were oceanic blue, a color that had made her fall in love with Fred every time she looked at him. She was so lost in his eyes, that she didn't hear the priest.

Fred leaned over and whispered in her ear, "My love, I think this is the time when you say 'I do.'," and chuckled. Hermione blushed, clearly embarrassed.

"I do." And they kissed.

* * *

They would have to move once again. It was the twelfth time in the last three months. Hermione was tired. It was extremely stressful to move from one place to another. There was a good reason to move; they had to survive. Hermione's life was not as happy as she had hoped; in fact, she was miserable. Fred, her Fred, whom she had fallen madly in love with, was becoming everything she hated. He was a gambler. He lost all her inheritance from her parents, and was in debt. Hermione had to provide for him. Fred had gambled so much that Hermione had to work for the people who Fred owed money to. It wasn't just the financial situation. Hermione wasn't that shallow.

Fred was also an alcoholic and a drug addict. He had changed tremendously. Fred was also abusive. He would hit her whenever he was under the influence. Hermione could have survived that. But she could never forgive him for making her loose her baby. Hermione had been pregnant about two months ago. When she was a month into her pregnancy, Fred had come home one day, clearly wasted, and had beaten her until she went into shock. They couldn't afford a doctor, so Hermione had to go through all the pain of loosing her first child alone. No mother could ever forgive anyone of that crime.

Fred also had mistresses. Whenever he wasn't high on drugs or gambling, he was with another woman. They had moved many times and every time, Fred had a new mistress. He had also gotten a few of them pregnant. Right now, they were on move. They were spending the night in a small hut in a village, where someone had taken pity on them after looking at Hermione. She was twenty-one; she looked almost twice her age. Hermione was not lying in the wooden bed, Fred was. Hermione, tired after a long day's walk, was fast asleep. Fred on the other hand was sneaking out of the hut to go and gamble. The next day Hermione woke up all alone in the little hut, with nothing but another pile of debt.

* * *

"Madam, our Lady needs her daily massages, and is calling for you." A servant said to Hermione.

"Of course, dear, tell Lady Hawford that I will join her shortly." Hermione replied.

Hermione had stayed in the same town where Fred had abandoned her. After he had left, people had checked to see if Hermione was still in the hut, and when she had emerged, they had asked for her husband. When she denied seeing him, they didn't believe her. Fred was gambling away money that he didn't have that night and left like a coward, during the middle of the night, when he realized the extent of his debts, so he wouldn't have to face Hermione. The person, Fred had owed majority of the money to, was Dr. Keys. Doctor Keys was a very kind man. He was elderly and seemed to feel sorry for Hermione. Dr. Key had made a deal with Hermione. Seeing as he was the only doctor in the town, he needed a few apprentices; Hermione became on of them.

Dr, Keys had died a few tears ago. Nowadays, Hermione started working for Lady Hawford. Lady Hawford was an elderly lady in need of a companion, the companion being Hermione. It was also very convenient for Lady Hawford, who was very sick and Hermione had been trained as a nurse. Hermione had been working for the lady for about seven years when it happened.

It started out as a normal day. Hermione had gotten the ointment to help the limp limbs. She went to Lady's chambers.

"Hello, my dear, what took you so long?" Hawford asked as soon as Hermione walked in. Hermione smiled. Lady Hawford was a sarcastic, old lady, who never lost her wit, despite her illness.

"My dear Lady, have some patience. I don't even know why I put up with you." If anyone other than Hermione had said that to Lady Hawford, they would have been released from her services, but Hermione and Lady Hawford had a bond, a relationship almost like a mother and a daughter. Also, Hermione was the only one who matched Lady Hawford with her quick witty replies.

"Because you can't find anyone else to work for." Lady replied.

"Oh and how would you know that? You stay in the bed all day." Hermione replied, smiling, to show that she was just jesting.

"Who would want an inexperienced nurse, who put me on my deathbed?" Lady said. Hermione stopped smiling.

"You are not on you deathbed. You can still live, if you weren't so stubborn." Hermione said, bitterly.

"But, dear, life would not be worth living without my legs. And if I get better, I know that you will leave me, to find someone else to serve."

"It's your choice." Hermione said stiffly, clearly not agreeing with Lady Hawford. She started massaging the ointment she brought on Lady Hawford's legs. A few minutes passed in silence. The door to Lady Hawford's chamber opened, and a servant stuck his head in.

"Sorry for the interruption, but Miss Granger has a letter. Should I bring it in now?"

"Yes, please, Daniel. If it's not too much trouble." Daniel opened the door, and brought the letter to Hermione, and left.

"Will you open the letter already?" Lady Hawford asked as she watched Hermione just staring at the letter.

"I have a feeling I am not going to like what I see in this letter."

"Give it to me, I will read it and tell you." Lady Hawford took the letter and read it. Lady Hawford just stared at Hermione with a thoughtful expression.

"What does it say?" Hermione asked.

"Someone from you family is ill."

"I don't have a family. I am an orphan."

"You do have a family. You have a husband." Hermione stiffened at Lady Hawford's words. "Read this." Hermione took the letter from Lady Hawford.

'_Mrs. Weasley. Perhaps you don't remember me, but I really need your help. I will keep this brief. Your husband, Mr. Fred Weasley, may be dying. We have heard that you are an extraordinary nurse. My friends and I think that you're the only one who would be able to save him. Would you please come to Hogwarts to try and save him? We are looking forward to seeing you._

_Severely needing your help,_

_Albus Dumbledore.'_

"I am not going." Hermione announced as soon as she finished reading her letter.

"Okay, can I ask you some questions?" Lady Hawford didn't wait for a reply. "Who is this Albus Dumbledore?"

"He is the Headmaster of the school I attended."

"Would he call on you unless he really needed your help?" Lady Hawford was studying Hermione.

"Probably not."

"Why don't you want to go?"

"Don't you remember anything I have told you about my husband?" Hermione said angrily. "He was a gambling fool. He used me to hide from the wrath of the people he robbed. Even my in-laws warned me about him. I was a naïve and didn't listen to them. They disowned him. I am not about to make a mistake of bringing him back into my life." By the time she finished, Hermione's cheeks were wet with tears.

"What if I order you to go to your husband, and release you from my services?" Lady Hawford asked in a small voice.

"You wouldn't." Hermione said in a horrified voice.

A few hours later, Hermione was on her way to Hogwarts.

* * *

A/N: I am starting the next chapter already, Please tell me what u think. Pretty plz. 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews. I really appreciate the comments. Now onto the next chapter. I am not really organized so if I contradict myself or make a mistake, please tell me so I can correct it as soon as possible. I also need reviews to keep going. Please keep them coming. Sorry for not updating for so long, but I crashed my computer with a virus. The darn bug cost me about 200 dollars - to restore the computer and I lost all my files. So I am starting from scratch. Please tell me what u think so far. 

Disclaimers: I do not own any Harry Potter Characters. I also do not own the plot, it is copied from an awesome Romance novel from Christina Dodd. I only mixed my two favorite things to create this.

* * *

_Previous Chapter:_

_"Don't you remember anything I have told you about my husband?" Hermione said angrily. "He was a gambling fool. He used me to hide from the wrath of the people he robbed. Even my in-laws warned me about him. I was a naïve and didn't listen to them. They disowned him. I am not about to make a mistake of bringing him back into my life." By the time she finished, Hermione's cheeks were wet with tears._

_"What if I order you to go to your husband, and release you from my services?" Lady Hawford asked in a small voice._

_"You wouldn't." Hermione said in a horrified voice._

_A few hours later, Hermione was on her way to Hogwarts._

_End.

* * *

_

Hermione could not use magic. It would be detected by the Ministry of Magic. She had to travel the muggle way to Hogsmeade where she would be picked up. It took her about a week to reach Hogsmeade. She was provided a comfortable carriage that held all her belongings. As soon as she put her foot down in Hogsmeade, she felt the magical energy surround her. Hermione was very sensitive to the energy around her. It had been such a long time, almost seven years, since she had used magic. Hermione had her wand stored safely in the chemise of her dress.

"Mrs. Weasley, if you will please follow me." One of the house elf said. "Do you have any other places to visit before we head to Hogwarts, Madam?"

"If you don't mind, can we please stop by the apothecary? I need to pick up some ingredients." Hermione replied politely.

"Sure, Missus." The house-elf led the way to the ingredient shop. It took Hermione about half an hour to gather necessary items for later use. After that, the house-elf helped Hermione get to Hogwarts faster by side-along apparation.

The magnificent castle was standing tall. The house-elf disappeared after leaving Hermione at the gates. She waited for someone to come and guide her. She looked up and saw a shadow coming towards her. It was the shadow of an elderly man, a man who was over a hundred years old, but still had the spirit and enthusiasm of a man in his prime; it was a shadow of Albus Dumbledore.

"Mrs. Weasley, welcome back to Hogwarts. It has been a long time since you graduated. I just wanted to let you know how grateful I am. I know that you and Mr. Weasley are estranged, and this must be difficult for you." Dumbledore smiled, without the usual spark in his eyes.

"Professor, sir, I have not come to see my husband, but to treat a patient. Will you please show me to my duties?" Hermione said, her voice void of any emotions.

"Mr. Weasley is given his own private quarters. The new term does not start for several weeks, so there will be no students. The ministry has provided a healer and a maid, because Fred was injured while fighting the Death Eaters. They are trying their hardest to save Mr. Weasley's life. I believe it would be more helpful if Fred heard a more familiar voice. If you will follow Hickey, the house-elf, she will show you to Mr. Weasley's quarters."

"Where will I be staying?" Hermione asked, her eyes narrowed.

"There are two separate beds in Mr. Weasley's room. It's for the best if you stay there." Dumbledore left before Hermione could reply.

Hermione followed Hickey. Fred's room was near the entrance of the dungeons. Hermione knocked before she entered, and almost wished she hadn't. Hickey disappeared.

The room was dark and smelled strongly of sweat and blood; it smelled like illness. The window curtains were closed, only allowing the darkest of lights to enter. The room had a gloomy look. Hermione shivered. The room gave the aura of death. On the bed, a still form was covered in blankets. A maid was sleeping in the chair by the bed.

Hermione crossed the room and went near the bed. What she saw shocked her. She had never thought that she would see Fred Weasley in this condition. He had bandages all over his face. She could see that the face was swollen. One of his foot was in a badly-shaped cast. As the nurse part of Hermione took over, she touched his forehead to feel his temperature, and lifted her hand almost instantly. Weasley's body was too warm.

"Weasley," Hermione said in a weak voice, to see if he would reply. He remained motionless.

'There needs to be some changes.' Hermione thought. She moved to the window, and opened the curtain. The change of light woke the maid.

"Hey," she protested, "who are you? You are not allowed to open the curtain. See the man over there," she pointed to the bed, "he is dying. Can't you just leave him alone? The doctor recommended that the curtains to be closed, to not irritate Mr. Weasley. The healer-"

She was cut off by Hermione, "-is a fool if he recommended this."

"You still haven't told me who you are, miss?" the foolish maid questioned Hermione once again.  
"I am his wife." Hermione pointed to Fred Weasley. The words had the desired effect on the maid.

"I am sorry miss, but I was just following the orders from the healer." The maid left the room in hurry. A few moments later an old man appeared, with the maid tagging behind him. The man was apparently the healer the maid was talking about.

"What are you doing here?" the healer demanded in a strong voice.

Hermione just ignored him and started removing the bandages on Fred's face. The healer looked horrified.

"What in the name of Merlin are you doing here?" the healer was so angry, that he didn't notice Dumbledore enter the room. "The man is going to die. He is in no conditions to suffer any more pain, you wench."

Dumbledore's eyes grew cold as he listened to the healer talk. "Do you mean to tell me that you have not been treating Mr. Weasley all this time, because you believed that he was going to die?" The healer looked horrified.

"N-no." He stammered. "But just look at him. By removing the bandages, the swelling has gone up even more."

It was true. The face was swelling so fast; Hermione could barely recognize the form. Hermione then wondered, if she had made a mistake by removing the bandages. But they were so old, and they needed to be replaced.

"I can use ice baths to help with the swelling. Can you arrange for the house-elves to bring some ice, Professor Dumbledore?" He nodded.

"Healer Haler, your services are no longer needed." Dumbledore said icily. The healer and the maid left. Dumbledore turned to Hermione. "I am so very sorry. I didn't know that they were treating him like a corpse. Do you think you will be able to take care of him, or should I hire another Healer?"

"No, I will be able to take care of Weasley. I have bought some potion ingredients, just incase they are needed. I could use a helping hand around here. Can you arrange that?" Hermione said.

"I can get any materials you need. I can also ask one of the house-elves, Hickey perhaps, to help you." Hermione nodded at that and began checking the pulse. Everything was normal. Dumbledore exited the room. A few moments later, Hickey appeared.

"May I help you miss?" Hickey asked.

"Yes, Hickey, can I ask you some questions?" Hermione looked at the elf who nodded. "Can you tell me anything about Mr. Weasley's conditions?"

The elf looked sad. "Mr. Weasley sir was brought in just over a week ago. He was in a very bad condition when he got here. Dumbledore asked for a healer and the healer came. I just came in twice a day to bring the maid food. As far as I know, sir hasn't been awake. He moaned and said gibberish in nightmares last night, but that was about it."

"All right. I can work with that. Hickey, can you help me when I need it?" the elf nodded happily. "I know Fred. He would hate to be tied up in a bed. To prevent sore muscles, we will need to move his arms and legs. Without magic if you don't mind. He also needs a bath; can you arrange some warm water with soothing minerals to be brought here? Oh, and don't forget a sponge." Hermione requested.

After giving him a sponge bath, Hermione decided to change the sheets. She used magic for the first time in several years. She felt the magic in her body stir.

"So, Weasley," Hermione siad, "how in the name of heaven did you hurt yourself? I can imagine people beating you up, but the wound on you leg is magical. I happen to know that you usually played cards with the muggles. I can see why; it's easier to cheat in the game." Hermione talked aloud, trying to get a response from her patient. He laid motionless.

A pheonis entered the open window and stopped in front of Hermione.

"Hello Fawks. Do you have a message for me?" Hermione asked. Fawks simply held out his leg. Hermione took the rolled note. It was from Dumbledore.

'Mrs. Weasley,

I must ask you not to leave the Hogwarts grounds while you are staying here. It is not safe to leave, as there are Voldemort's followers roaming the village of Hogsmeade. You may visit Hagird, and the Greenhouses on the ground. Thank you again for your help. I appreciate it.

Sincerely,

Dumbledore.'

Hermione shook her head. The sun was setting now. The sky was a mixture of purples and orange. The last of sun's ray were coming in through the window. It lighted Hermione's patient's face. With a moan, Fred Weasley opened his eyes for the first time in almost 10 days.

His very oceanic blue eyes staring right at her.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimers: I don't own the characters, JKR does. I don't own the plot, Christina Dodd does. 

Title: Deception

Author: SoniJanu54

_Previously:_

_Hermione shook her head. The sun was setting now. The sky was a mixture of purples and orange. The last of sun's ray were coming in through the window. It lighted Hermione's patient's face. With a moan, Fred Weasley opened his eyes for the first time in almost 10 days._

_His very oceanic blue eyes staring right at her._

_End of Chapter 2._

Chapter: 3: Welcome to Reality.

He opened his eyes and looked around. He was staring at a lady. A beautiful woman. She had a face like an angel, with the pale creamy skin, which was flawless. Her hair had escaped the bun, and ringlets were framing her face. She was looking down at him in concern. He moved his attention to his body. He noticed that he was lying down in a bed. He tried to get up, but his body wouldn't obey him. He turned his head slightly, and pain shot through his neck. He was obviously very sore. He just hoped that he would recover.

That night, he drank broth that the woman poured down his throat. He wished that he could stay in her arms forever. He would then die happily.

He frowned.

Die? He wasn't going to die. There never was a question of that. He fell into a deep slumber with that thought.

* * *

"It's a beautiful morning, miss, after the storm last night." Hickey said, as she entered the room with Hermione's breakfast.

"He woke up last night." Hermione said to Hickey, who squealed happily.

"See, your presence woke up the sir. He must like you greatly. Hickey is very happy indeed. Hickey is happy to hear the good news." Hermione frowned at the bad grammar. Hickey usually did not speak of herself in the third person, but strong emotions seemed to bring out the elf upbringing.

"Very good news, I would think." Hermione said.

Several days passed by, and Hermione's life became a routine.

Waking up. Checking on Weasley. Eating breakfast. Talking to Hickey. Researching. Checking on Fred. Feeding him broth or some other liquids. Reading books. Exercising Fred's limbs. Giving him a bath. Eating dinner. Checking on Weasley, and talk to him if he opened his eyes. Doing some nighttime reading. Talking to Hickey and going to sleep.

Dumbledore had visited a couple of times to see the progress, and had been very pleased. Fred was coming along nicely.

"There is a letter here for you, miss. It came the muggle way." Hickey said, holding out an envelope. It had to be from Lady Hawford. Hermione and the lady had kept in touch with the letters.

"Put it on the table, Hickey, I will open it later. I will write her this afternoon. I think Weasley is improving." Hermione had Fred's head in the crook of her arm and was trying to feed him broth without magic. His eyes were open. He was listening, but not responding. Hermione finished forcing down the food. When she leaned over to tuck him in, he slid his hand inside her wrapper, and cupped her breast! Not tentatively, not with trepidation, but with smooth confidence of an aficionado of women.

"That was totally uncalled for, sir." Hermione gasped as she stood up. But Fred had already closed his eyes, as though the effort of lifting an arm had cost him all his energy. Where had he learned a move like that? He had taken in many mistresses, but not to please them, but to please himself.

"What happened, miss?" Hickey asked.

"Oh, um, nothing." Hickey had become a friend and a mother figure to her for the last few weeks. She had kept Hermione's spirits up when Hermione felt down.

"Eat your breakfast, miss. You are thinner than a twig. You face could use some fat." Hickey advised.

Hermione checked Fred's body temperature, by feeling his forehead. "No fever. It must have gone away during the night." Hermione said. Her fingers moved to his hair.

"I wish I could wash his hair. Not just clean it, but really wash it with water in a bathroom." Hermione said. "It's just so filthy."

"Soon, when he has the energy to get up and move around. It looks like it used to be dark red." Hickey commented.

"No, his hair is fiery orange." Although Hermione and Fred were separated, Hermione remembered his profile very well. His hair was the only thing that set him apart from the rest of his family; while Fred had reddish orange hair, the rest of the Weasley family had dark red hair.

After eating breakfast, Hermione was studying her husband. Even though she had removed bandages from his face, Hermione still couldn't recognize him. Perhaps, because of the cuts on his face, but Fred looked like a changed man. The only feature she could recognize on his face was his eyes. They were the same oceanic blue eyes, the eye that had made her fall in love with the men that was lying on the bed.

* * *

That afternoon, Hickey was trying to get Fred to wake up again. After finding out that one of Fred's favorite fruit was peach, Hickey had brought fresh peaches from the kitchens and was goading, even daring, Fred to wake up.

"Come on, sir, doesn't that smell like nice spring evening in a garden full of peach trees?" Hickey was holding a peach under the man's nose and was talking to him. Hermione broke out into laughter as she heard this. She really liked Hickey. It seemed that the sweet voice of Hermione's laughter had woken him up. He was awake, but did not open his eyes. Hermione noticed his eyes moving under the eyelids, and decided to play along.

"Come on, Weasley. It's a beautiful day outside. It's summer like no other has been, or ever will be, and you are wasting it in the sickroom." Hermione moved next to Fred's bed, and moved her hand to his face. "We could go out in the woods, or in the garden, and just lay down in the grass, looking at the amazing blue sky. The sun's playing hide and seek with the clouds, and the flowers are lush with the scent. Wake up and I will take you there."

Fred open an eye, and took a peek. "Okay, I will let you take me out to the garden, but first tell me who I am."

* * *

A/N: Hiya. Thank you so much for your reviews: **Hazel-buttafly**: glad you like the story. I am guessing u like Fred's character. Review please.** Cartoonatic**: Thanks for the review. Hope you like this chapter. **Ingra**: my first sorta flame. I need more criticism. Feel free to give me some advise. Tell me what you think about this chapter. **Monnbeam**: Thanks for the review. Review again. Please. **Flamezblaze1**: Thank for the review, Kelsey. Like the story so far?. You guys are the best. I know I left off at the cliffhanger, but I just wanted you guys to know that I already started the next chapter, and I will probably post it up over the weekend, hopefully. You guys like the chapter. Yes? No? May be so? Tell me by your reviews. While you are here, read my other story and tell me what you think. 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimers: I don't own the characters. Really…I don't. JKR does. Isn't she awesome? Thanks to her I can write this fanfic. I want to take credit for the plot, but I can't. The plot, as well as some dialogues came from one of my favorite romance author, Christina Dodd. From her and her brilliant mind. 

Title: Deception

Author: SoniJanu54

_Previously in chapter 3:_

_"Come on, Weasley. It's a beautiful day outside. It's a summer like no other has been, or ever will be, and you are wasting it in the sickroom." Hermione moved next to Fred's bed, and moved her hand to his face. "We could go out in the woods, or in the garden, and just lay down in the grass, looking at the amazing blue sky. The sun's playing hide and seek with the clouds, and the flowers are lush with the scent. Wake up and I will take you there."_

_Fred open an eye, and took a peek. "Okay, I will let you take me out to the garden, but first tell me who I am."_

_End of chapter 3._

A/N: This chapter is from Fred's pt. of view, but its in third person.

Chapter Four: The reality.

The woman stared at him, her brown eyes unblinking, clearly surprised, her pink lips slightly parted, as though she had stopped in a middle of a sentence.

"Who…are…you?" the woman's voice sounded as though she was having trouble comprehending a simple sentence.

"Okay, if you can't tell me that, can you please tell me who you are?" His words were polite, but by the tone of his voice, it was clearly an order, not a request.

"Who…am…I?" The woman said in the same voice.

He was surprised that he didn't remember her. He knew that he had seen her somewhere, and he had wanted nothing more than to touch her, but he hadn't because... because…well he couldn't remember why, but that was why he was asking the lass the questions. But she was either very surprised, or didn't understand the language. Then a horrifying thought occurred to him. He voiced his concern.

"Who _are_ you? What in the name of Merlin have you done to me?" He snapped, his voice now very demanding, "I remember you, glowing, humming. But I can't remember your name."

"Praise be, he talks!" A squeaky voice said. He tried to get up, to see who stood out of his view, at his unprotected back. He couldn't move a muscle. Pain shot through his joints, his muscles. It was bone-deep. He, instead, looked around and he spotted an odd creature, a house-elf.

The woman had seen him wince as he tried to move, and put her hand on his shoulder. "Don't try and move. Muscle cramps, it's not surprising in your condition."

His condition? What had happened to him? What was wrong with him? Where was he? But more importantly, who was he? Panic rose in him. He wasn't used to loosing control of the situation. He didn't know how he knew that, but he just knew.

He looked at the young woman again. Her eyes were shining and wide. He knew her, dammit. He just couldn't remember her name. He remembered her voice humming and singing and talking to him, telling him about her day. He remembered her heart shaped face leaning over him, when he awoke. He remembered her dark long hair cascading down her shoulder and brushing his neck when she was leaning over him. He remembered seeing the delightful curve of her breast peeking from her wrapper. But he didn't remember getting into the bed with him? But why else would he have seen her in such conditions? Who was he? What didn't he remember?

_Nothing, I remember nothing_. At least he knew the answer to one of his question, he thought wryly.

"Who the hell am I?" He tried to sit up.

"My dear sir, you are in no shape for wrestling." The house-elf squeaked.

"I want to sit up." He commanded. Other occupants in the room ignored the last sentence. That wasn't supposed to happen. When he gave and order, people usually followed. Now, how had he known that?

"Woman, you tell me who I am and what am I doing here right now." He voiced angrily. His voice sounded rough.

"You've been very ill." The woman said.

"I deduced as much, you silly wench." The woman's back erected straight at the offending words.

"I am Hickey, sir. Now, listen, you'll stay lying down while I get the Dumbledore, he will be able to explain everything to you momentarily." Hickey said.

"Why should I do that? Why should I listen to either one of you?" He asked, in a brattiest voice.

"Because madam has been that one who has taken care of you for weeks and I am the one who has been wiping you bare bottom. So it's in you best interest to be quiet." Hickey said.

"Aren't you a house-elf? House-elves are supposed to listen to their masters." He said.

"I don't have a master, sir, I am a free elf. I can do as I please. I am currently employed by Albus Dumbledore, and he will be able to answer your questions." Hickey said in the same tone as he had used.

"Fine." He was a warrior, and warriors admitted defeats graciously. He stayed still while Hickey went to get Albus Dumbledore, whoever he was.

As the elf left, the lass laughed.

"What are you laughing about?" he asked, as if he didn't already know.

"We were so worried that you would never wake up. But now that you are awake, you are as boorish as ever." The woman said, still grinning. Two facts came to mind. This woman's laugh was satisfying, as though he had been waiting to hear it all his life. The second fact was that this woman must be familiar with him, as she had called him boorish.

"I've got little mind to wait for this Dumbledore. I know that you know who I am. Tell me." He tried his best to make it into a request, not a command.

"You are Frederick Weasley." The woman answered easily. She waited while he tasted the name on his lips.

"Frederick Weasley." The name didn't sound familiar to him. "I dinna ken."

"You _must_ be sick, if you are speaking in Scot. You have nothing but scorn for Scotland." (A/N: I know that the Weasleys are probably Irish, but I would rather have them be Scottish, and the rest of the Weasleys live somewhere in Scotland. Please remember this.)

"Scorn? Scotland is the best place on earth. Why would I not like it?" He asked curiously. "Who are you?" He asked before she could answer his previous question.

"I am your wife." She answered.

"Liar." He replied.

"Why do you think that I would be lying?"

"I don't remember you." He said.

"You claim to not remember anything at all." She shot back. This woman seemed to doubt his word. No one ever doubted his word. He was supposed to be the pillar of honesty and integrity.

"You dare…doubt me?" He asked his voice disbelieving.

"So now we are even." She replied smartly.

His gaze measured her from the head to the tow. She was wearing a forest green dress, with a modest neckline. Her waist was trim, and if he her petticoats hid her curves, he had an imagination, and he was definitely using it now. She was a simple beauty. A little to thin, but beauty no matter. She noticed him staring, but did not blush or say anything. His wife? Not likely. His wife would be very fashionable, with fluttery lashes, and flirtatious manner.

"You are not my wife. No man would ever forget making love to you." Again, she didn't blush at his antics.

"Apparently, _you_ have." She said, calmly.

"What is your name?" He said, ignoring her last answer.

"Hermione." Hermione. Good name, he thought. He was still suspicious and wondered if she was lying about that, too.

"Where are we?"

"We are in the Hogwarts School of Witches and Wizardry." She wondered how he would react to this new information.

"So I am a wizard?" Hermione merely nodded as a reply. "Interesting. Do I have a wand?"

"Dumbledore may have it. I didn't think to ask."

"How was I injured?" He asked.

"You were injured in a duel. Dumbledore will be able to answer any questions about that as I do not know any details. But I do know that you were hurt, and another man killed."

"Are all my body parts still intact?" He painfully wiggled his toes, and moved his fingers. He looked towards his privates pointedly. "Turn your back if you have any modesty." Hermione turned around, but when he had done groping himself, satisfied that _all_ his body parts were intact, he noticed a fiery blush rising up the back of her neck.

"I can't believe you're embarrassed. As you've said, we are married. If you were really my wife, you'd be glad that I still possess the means to bring you bliss." He said smugly.

"If you were much of a husband, I'd be." Hermione retorted.

"You wouldn't say that if I was able to get up from this bed." Fred tried to argue.

"You don't know me at all." Hermione said. Hermione changed the subject, before he could get overworked. "Would you like something to drink?"

"And something to eat too. I feel like I've been in prison. Was I starved here?"

"No, but you can't take in solids yet." Hermione moved closer to his bed, bringing a bowl of something liquid with her. "You won't be able to hold the mug. Let me help you." He was about to complain, but wisely closed his mouth as she lifted his head in the crook of her arm, moving him closer to her bosom. This position felt familiar. He remembered the scent of lilies that clung to her. As Hermione tilted the bowl, he greedily drank the thin soup.

"What do you mean, boorish?" He asked as Hermione moved back to the chair nearby the window, away from his bed.

"Huh?"

"You said that I was as boorish as ever."

"You and I are separated."

"Nonsense. I would never estrange my own wife."

"That's the second time you've called me a liar."

"Come here." He demanded.

"Why?"

"As strong as you are, are you scared of a man in the bed?" He asked. Hermione moved closer to his bed.

"What do you want?" She asked.

"I want to kiss you."

"Why? I am not your wife. Remember? I am a liar."

"Sarcastic lass! I believe you when you say that we are married."

"No, we are estranged."

"You just don't want me to gain my memories back. I might remember something from a familiar touch." He tried his best to make her give in.

"Fine." Hermione moved closer to him, and tilted her face, but stubbornly kept her lips firmly closed. He knew just how to soften an unwilling woman. He kissed her again and again. Little pecks. On the corner of her mouth, the tip of her cute nose, her eye brows, and then finally her lips. Ah! The feel of her soft lips on his was pure heavenly. He kissed her mouth with little brushes again and again, untilshe gave in and parted her lips slightly. He took full advantage of it and drover his tongue into her moth very gently. He kept moving his tongue in and out for a few moments. He wanted to laugh when his body- weak, wounded, and aching- stirred to life. He pulled out of her mouth and ended the kiss with a small peck. He smoothed her hair cak, and looked at her until she opened her eyes. He wanted to kiss her again, but he weakly said, "Darling, we have company." Dumbledore stood in the doorway.

* * *

A/N: I was going to post this chapter tomorrow, but I just couldn't wait. So here it is. How did u like it. I know that the chapter is not long, but I didn't want to overwhelm you with the information. Did you like it? Review plz.

To my reviewers: **Ingra: **Thank you so much for the review. Just keep reading. There will be many more surprises later. Glad you liked the last chapter. Want to do me a favor...Review again plz. **Hazel-Buttafly:**So you're not a Fred Fan, but you like the story, right? Thanks for the review. Like this chapter?** KrazyKrazyKt:** Yay, you're my new reviewer. You like the story? How about this chapter? Thanks for the review.

You guys are the best... but i need some more input...Please review...


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimers: I really own nothing. The credit belongs to JKR and Christina Dodd. I just like to mix and match. I am just continuing this story, because I am motivated by my reviewers.

Title: Deception

Author: SoniJanu54

_Previously in Chapter 4:_

"_Fine." Hermione moved closer to him, and tilted her face, but stubbornly kept her lips firmly closed. He knew just how to soften an unwilling woman. He kissed her again and again. Little pecks. On the corner of her mouth, the tip of her cute nose, her eye brows, and then finally her lips. Ah! The feel of her soft lips on his was pure heavenly. He kissed her mouth with little brushes again and again, until she gave in and parted her lips slightly. He took full advantage of it and drover his tongue into her moth very gently. He kept moving his tongue in and out for a few moments. He wanted to laugh when his body- weak, wounded, and aching- stirred to life. He pulled out of her mouth and ended the kiss with a small peck. He smoothed her hair, and looked at her until she opened her eyes. He wanted to kiss her again, but he weakly said, "Darling, we have company." Dumbledore stood in the doorway._

_End of Chapter 4.

* * *

_

Chapter 5: Filling him in.

Hermione was shocked. Of all the things she had expected would happen when Fred woke up, this was the last thing she had imagined. He couldn't remember a damn thing about himself. It was exhausting. She couldn't deal with this. She had played enough of Fred's games while they were together. Right now, he was nothing more than a patient. But she knew that she couldn't lie to herself about not caring about him after the way he had kissed her. When they were married, there was no gentleness, no hugs or kisses, no comforting touches. Fred had only cared about satisfying his needs. But this kiss had held so much passion. It was very unlike Fred she used to know. Her body's reaction was very confusing as well. She had felt things in a kiss that she even know existed. Hermione was so busy in her thoughts, that she didn't even blush when she saw Dumbledore in the doorway,

"Oh, I am sorry, Headmaster, I didn't see you there." Hermione said. Dumbledore entered the room followed by Professor Snape, Remus Lupin and Hickey, who was carrying a tray.

"It should be I who should be apologizing for interrupting the long awaited reunion." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily. There was some hope for the man on the bed after all.

"Weasley, you had us worried." Lupin said.

"I could imagine." Fred did not sound at all grateful to have these three important men leave their work to talk to him. Instead, he watched all of them coolly and carefully.

Weasley had his nerve, but Hermione already knew that.

"It's about time you woke up." Lupin continued, trying to ignore the icy tone from Fred. Fred didn't say anything to that.

"How do you feel?" Dumbledore asked.

"As if I've been beaten and starved." Fred looked at Hickey and asked. "Is there any food?"

"Aye, sir, there is some broth." Hickey replied.

"I don't want any more broth. I already had some. Can I have some real food?"

"Miss Hermione has the final say in that sir." Hickey replied, not at all intimidated by Fred's tactics.

"You can only have some broth tomorrow. If you can manage to keep it down, then you can have some food tomorrow."

"But I have a taste for peaches." Fred whined, ignoring the other men in the room.

"Tomorrow." Hermione promised. She couldn't look at him. Wouldn't look at him. He looked so smug, so self-satisfied. It was distracting. Where had he learned to kiss like that? And with whom? Was she jealous of some faceless woman now after she had prayed to god that Fred would be as far away as possible for seven years? No, all she would have to do is act professional, like a nurse that she was,

"Can I have some water then?" Fred asked. Hermione poured a glass of water and moved to the bed. She took Fred's head in her arms and slowly fed him water. The men watched as one of them was fed like a baby.

"Now lass are you going to burp me?" Fred asked cheekily, lessening the tension. The men laughed. The woman and the elf exchanged look that clearly said. '_Men.'_

"Now that you are comfortable, let's discuss your condition. I am Albus Dumbledore. This is Remus Lupin," Dumbledore pointed to Lupin who moved closer to the bed, "and the man who is sulking in the corner is Professor Severus Snape." Fred nodded as the introductions were made.

"Hickey tells me that you cannot seem to remember anything. 'Tis very unfortunate. I am guessing Hermione already answered many of your questions. Do you have any for me?" Dumbledore asked.

"I wish to talk to you alone." Fred said to Dumbledore, not breaking the eye contact. Before Dumbledore said anything, Lupin and Snape left without a word; Hickey followed. It seemed like the men were used to taking orders from Fred. What had happened in the last seven years? It took a few moments to comprehend Fred's sentence, and she moved to leave, but Fred grabbed her hand.

"Please stay. You're my wife. I wish for you to hear this." Fred was looking at her.

"Now I am your wife? Quiet a change from an hour ago." Hermione said, although she did not make any moves to cross the room and leave.

"Of course, you're his wife." Dumbledore looked at Hermione strangely.

"See, now we have a ruling from the authority. We are married." Fred said.

Hermione wanted to retort, but closed her mouth and moved to the shadows. The two men seemed to size up each other. Their concentration, the sense of power each man exuded astounded Hermione. Of course Dumbledore possessed that indefatigable air of command, but now Weasley seemed to possess it, too, and when had that happened?

"So I am in a school? Are there students here now?"

"No, but the school opens in a few weeks, in about twenty days." Dumbledore replied.

"What happened to my wand?"

"I happen to have it. If Mrs. Weasley says that you can use it, you can simply ask Hickey to retrieve it from me. Anything else?"

"How was I injured?"

"You were on a secret mission from me, but the wrong people found out and you got into a duel. You were injured, and another man killed. Because of the safety reasons, I must ask you to not leave the Hogwarts ground. It is unsafe for you to be seen." Fred simply nodded. For a few minutes, Dumbledore seemed really concentrated.

"If you are done searching my mind, and really believe that I am telling you the truth, would you please stop invading my mind and leave?" Fred asked, breaking the silence.

"Of course. I hope you don't mind, but the use of legimency was very crucial. I needed to know for sure that you were telling me the truth. You are really important in the war right now. Please lock the door after I leave. I have put up anti-apparition charm. Only Hickey will be able to enter." Dumbledore said, and left before Fred could ask anymore questions.

"That was an odd conversation. Now I have more questions that I have answers." Fred said thoughtfully after Dumbledore exited. "What is your impression of Dumbledore?" Fred's voice was strained, and his eyes were drooping. He was remaining awake on pure will power.

"You need to sleep. You haven't strength for this kind of exertion." Hermione said.

"What do you think of Dumbledore?" He repeated.

"I like him." Hermione refused to elaborate.

"But is he telling the truth?"

"Yes. I mean, I think so. He has given me no reason to think otherwise. If you were the enemy, he could have killed you a long time ago." Hermione still didn't understand why her husband was so paranoid.

"But if I have discovered information he wants, and the information exists only in my head, then Dumbledore would keep me alive until I have given him the information. When he gets it, he can easily kill me."

"I hadn't thought of it that way." Hermione said. "So you really don't remember." Fred shook his head. "But then I work for Dumbledore, and you don't really remember that I am you wife."

Fred took a minute to answer that. "You could be my executioner," he said as his eyelids closed, "and there isn't a damn thing I could do about it." He was asleep.

She stood looking down at him. The swelling on his face had gone down, leaving a sharp bone structure, softened by a padding of healthy flesh, Instead his skin was slashed and scared. His blade of nose looked broken, his beard was scraggy. His lips…when she had first come to Hogwarts, they had been cracked with fever. She'd rubbed them with ointment, bringing them to a state of wide, pale smoothness. To tell the truth, she'd fallen a little in love with his lips. Not that she'd gone as far as to imagine another kiss, but she'd found pleasure in their shape, their velvety texture, the way they might feel if they brushed her neck, her chest, her... well, she'd found pleasure in their velvety texture.

She still didn't recognize Frederick Weasley, but as each day passed and she concentrated solely on the man in the bed, the old memories faded. She would never again resemble the man she'd married, but perhaps that was a good thing, for he gave an appearance of wanting…things she wasn't ready to give.

He'd kissed her. More important, she'd kissed him back. That kiss had succeeded because Weasley had caught her by surprise. Yes, that was it. He'd caught her unaware, and her response had been a reaction more to years of deprivation than to real passion. She needed to remember who he was. What he had done. To her. To her unborn child. To others, too. Fred Weasley had never been too concerned with telling the truth, or allowing others to retain what was theirs. They'd fought about that. And many a times, he had taunted her, called her an orphan who didn't understand how her betters lived.

When this man's memory returned, his old feckless personality would return. She knew it. No man changed as Weasley had changed. She needed to remember that because… because if he stayed the man he had been for this brief hour, she'd develop a passion for him.

She'd suffered through infatuation once, and the results had almost brought her to her knees. The thought of springing that trap again frightened her as she hadn't been frightened for seven long years. Her gaze fixed on the unconscious man; she freed her fingers from his and retreated from the bed.

Plagued by sleep terrors, he jumped. He groaned. His eyes fluttered open and glanced wildly around him. His gaze found hers, and he sighed. "Stay with me." He asked.

She heard the undercurrent of desperation in his voice. She didn't want to feel sorry for him. She didn't want to make promises.

He tried to struggle on his elbows. "Stay." He insisted.

"I'll be here when you wake up."

He extended his hand.

Helpless to resist, she returned.

His fingers grasped hers. "I really need you."

Surely there could be no harm in promising such a simple thing, so she said, "I won't leave."

On that assurance, he was asleep. Really asleep this time. But even in deep slumber, he clung to her.

Sighing, she looked her foot around the straight-backed chair, and brought it around so she could sit. "I want you to understand something," she told the sleeping man. "I am not promising forever."

* * *

A/N: Wow, I am so surprised. I didn't think you guys would like this story this much. I got 8 reviews for the last chapter alone. You guys are the best. Keep reviewing, and I will post the new chapter faster. Tell me what you think of this story so far, please. I need feedback. Don't hesitate to leave some advice. I am sorry I couldn't thank the individual reviewers, but I read that somewhere that Fanfic is closing down accounts of people who respond to their reviewers in their chapters, so I'll pass on that. But, my faithful reviewers, you guys know who you are. Thank you so much. Expect the next chapter to be posted by Wednesday next week. Review please... 


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimers: I really own nothing. The credit belongs to JKR and Christina Dodd. I just like to mix and match. I am just continuing this story, because I am motivated by my reviewers.

Title: Deception

Author: SoniJanu54

_Previously in Chapter 5: _

_His fingers grasped hers. "I really need you." _

_Surely there could be no harm in promising such a simple thing, so she said, "I won't leave." _

_On that assurance, he was asleep. Really asleep this time. But even in deep slumber, he clung to her. _

_Sighing, she looked her foot around the straight-backed chair, and brought it around so she could sit. "I want you to understand something," she told the sleeping man. "I am not promising forever." _

_End of Chapter 5. _

Chapter 6

Weasley opened his eyes to the sunshine filling his room. He knew where he was immediately. In Hogwarts, his body torn in a duel, his mind blank and still – and the woman who called herself his wife hovering close to him like a restless spirit. "What is wrong, woman?" He snapped.

Hermione straightened and backed up a long slow step, her spine stiff with displeasure. "You have slept long. Fourteen hours since yesterday. We were afraid that you wouldn't wake again."

"You will not be so lucky again." Weasley said. His leg hurt, his butt ached. He groped for another pillow to put under his shoulder.

Hermione sprang to his assistance. "You, sir, are more pleasant when you are unconscious."

The elf he had met yesterday – Hickey – stood at the foot of the bed. She voiced her unwanted opinion. "Most men are. And most babes, too."

Hermione smiled suddenly, "I suppose there's a lesson to be learned there."

For all that he wanted to nip at her for her insolence, he was stricken by the dimple in her chin, the lilt in her voice, the sparkle of her teeth, that he could do no more than stare. Merlin, when she was happy, everything about her shouted her joy.

She hadn't smiled at him before. Not once. Not ever.

He couldn't have forgotten her.

Damn it. Damn it! His name. His home. His mother, father, his kin. What had this duel done to him? He had forgotten all. Oppressed by lucid despair, he pressed his hands to his forehead.

Gently, Hermione pushed them away, and looked into his eyes. "Do you have a headache?"

She wasn't staring at him with romantic interest; she was watching his pupils, checking to see if the were normal. His wife. She had claimed to be his wife, yet – how had his wife become this woman of cool blue eyes and a steady voice? She said they were estranged; did she cherish no sweet memories of their marriage?

Hickey handed her a steaming cup, and the rich scent smelled of parsley and beef. His moth watered, and he found himself reaching out.

Hermione steadied the mug.

He swallowed so quickly that it burned the roof of his mouth, and the broth tasted salty and rich on his tongue.

"Do you have a headache?" Hermione asked again.

He glanced at Hickey. She stood across the room, folding linens at the table, too far to hear him speak, so in a low tone he admitted, "More of a heartache. I don't know who I am." Then he cursed himself for showing Hermione his soft underbelly. Most women scorned weak men.

But Hermione didn't show her contempt. She answered just as softly, "I'll take care of you until you know who you are."

She still wore the forest green dress, a little more wrinkled than before, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. The sunlight caressed her, but tiredness ringed her eyes and curling wisps of hair straggled from the snood that bound her locks. He caught her hand. "And after." He demanded rather than asked.

"If you want me." Her tone made it clear that she doubted that.

Again a memory slipped from the mists of his mind. Hermione, leaning over him, her wrap loose about her shoulders, golden candlelight gleaming on the upper swells of her breasts.

Why couldn't he remember what happened after? Just that wisp of memory brought his member stirring to life, and he needed to remember everything about her more than he needed to remember all the rest of his life.

He wanted to press a kiss on her fingers, slip an arm around her waist, carry her off to some private place and love her until that tight expression of concern and control slipped and became tender passion.

He wanted to do all those things, but he gazed on their intertwined hands, and the difference jolted him. Her fingers were strong, her nails short, her skin pink and healthy. His hands were skeletal, pasty white, the hands of an invalid. He hadn't the strength to take her, but more important, no woman would want him like this.

A thought occurred to him, and panic abruptly escaped from behind its prison bars. "How old am I?"

"Let me think." Her eyebrows wrinkled, and she counted on her fingers. "You are twenty-seven."

Relief swept him. "Not an old man then."

"Not at all." Hermione said.

"Just contrary as the devil." Hickey said.

He smirked at her. "Do you recognize your master?"

Hickey went about her work, not at all offended. "Ah, you're a wicked one, Mr. Weasley."

Hermione brought him a hand mirror.

The scars struck him first. Pale lines crisscrossed one side of his face. "I look like a Frankenstein's monster."

She didn't answer.

Glancing at her still, set face, he asked, "What?"

"You've read _Frankenstein_?"

"Yes."

"Who wrote it?"

"Mary Shelley." He understood Hermione now, and he said, "I don't know why I know that, I just do. I can quote a hundred history facts about the wizard kind, and just as many about the muggle history. I can do the Hamlet soliloquy." He gestured grandly and proclaimed, "To be or not to be, that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles –"

"– And by opposing end them." Hermione interrupted. "I do believe you when you say you remember your _Hamlet_."

He continued, 'I can tell you how to trap a rabbit and clean it, and how to make at least a dozen knots. But I don't remember who I am, and that's what I want to know."

"All right."

He didn't believe that she had accepted his explanation, and silently demanded she do so.

"All right!" She spread her hands wide. "I don't understand who this works, I admit it. You'll allow me my moments of doubt."

"You can doubt anything you want, but don't doubt me. I am the only man here who is telling you all the truth."

"How do you know that?"

"I have an instinct." Let her make of that what she would.

Lifting the mirror again, he touched the scars lightly with his fingertips. They explained why his cheek felt still and sore when he spoke. He widened his eyes, flexed his jaw, and tilted his head. The man in the mirror made the motions, too, but he didn't recognize him. Nothing about the juxtaposition of harsh lines, pale scars and beard looked familiar to him.

Yet Hermione seemed to find nothing unusual in his features. "Do you know yourself?"

"Nothing at all."

"You're a man quite in your prime." Hickey said as she moved back and forth in the room, putting the linens away.

He teased, "If you have to wipe a bottom, you're glad it was mine, eh?"

Hermione gasped. "Weasley!"

But Hickey positively cackled. "I am not going interspecies, sir, but I got a quite a pleasant eyeful."

"Hickey!" Hermione sounded even more shocked by the older woman than by Weasley himself.

Handing Hermione the mirror, he said, "For a moment I wondered if I'd slept my life away."

"Gambling it away would be more your style."

He frowned. He didn't understand. "I don't gamble."

"It is your vice."

He didn't understand that either. He knew about cards, he knew men who spent days and nights in smoke-filled rooms betting their livelihood on a single toss of the dice, but that wasn't him. He resented her insinuation that he was a weakling like…the thought slipped away almost as soon as he had formed it. Like who? Whose face did he see, garnish with agitation, as he wagered everything on an illusion?

Weasley's excitement subsided before it had a chance to develop. Faces paraded across his mind in no more context than they would in a dream, and until he could bring the memories up from the depths, he would be helpless to understand them.

Helpless…he was helpless, damn it! Extending the mug he said, "I want some more broth, and this time, put some real food into it."

She mimicked his deep voice, "Please, Hermione, may I have some more broth?"

"If I don't beg, will you starve me?"

"I don't want you to beg, I want you to treat me politely, but I forgot!" She snapped her fingers. "You don't act nice, unless you benefit from it."

The trouble was, he rather thought that she was right. Demanding things felt right to him. Patience was never his virtue. Words like 'please' and 'thank you' felt alien. In a mocking tone, he said, "Please, Hermione, may I have some more broth?"

"I would love to give you more broth." Hermione said, taking the cup.

"And this time, put some real food in it." He said, mostly to spite her.

The flames in her burned vibrant and restless, yet contained by her strength of her will, and smile blazed with arrogance. She tossed her head. A few more errant curls drifted form the snood and settled around her shoulders. Her skirts swished as she moved towards the table.

"Hickey, there is no more broth here. Can you make sure that he doesn't harm himself, while I get the broth from the kitchens."

"I can do it for you, miss." Hickey offered.

"No, thank you. I need to get away for a few minutes, if you don't mind." Hermione looked at Fred as she said this."

"You are an arrogant bear of a man." Hickey said after several seconds of silence. "But you're scared to death, aren't you, sir?"

He flinched, and the movement shot pain through his whole body. "What do you mean?"

"Everyone one wonders if you're playing a game, saying you don't remember. I know that you aren't, for if you did, you'd not be shouting and nasty to hide your terror."

"I am not terrified." He wasn't!

"Of course you aren't. I have seen over fifteen generations of students pass through Hogwarts, at least half of them male, and I don't know a thing about men." Hickey placed a stack of towels on the table besides his bed. "They are for your bath tomorrow."

"I am not taking a bath."

"We've already discussed it, Mrs. Weasley and I. We are going to give you a sponge bath, just like we do every other day."

"The hell you are." He refused to expose this while, emaciated body to anyone, certainly not to a female who had once fawned over his strength and masculinity. Fawned enough to marry him, if he was to believe her.

"See there it is again. You're so terrified, you're snapping at about every little thing."

"It's not a little thing." He clenched his teeth."

"My point is, I am very fond of miss Hermione. I've watched her bring you from the brink of death, talk to you when I thought her addled to do so, turn you big, limp body so you wouldn't get bedsores when she is just a slip of a thing who shouldn't even have to lift her own teacup. Now I understand a man having his fears, and I understand you're a man used to command, but when I hear you being nasty to Mrs. Weasley, I think to myself that I ought to explain her how frightened you are so she'll not take any offense."

He stared at Hickey, seeing the iron, behind the kindness. She threatened to tattle to Hermione that beneath his gruff exterior lay a scared little boy. Hermione would be nice to him, of course, but he knew that beneath her courtesy would be the lash of condescension of all women felt for puny men.

He wasn't weak; he wasn't scared of the great, gaping hole in mind, or that he would never find himself again. It wasn't true – but it didn't matter. Hickey would say it was, and his denials would fall on deaf ears.

'Of course, I am just an elf. My place is to keep my mouth shut." Hickey's face showed her determination. "And I can keep mum if you could find it in your heart to be a little bit more civil to out dear Mrs. Weasley."

"All right, but you will get me out of taking a bath." It sounded like a good deal.

"You smell." Hickey said bluntly.

"Females are too fussy about cleanliness."

"You haven't had a real bath for at least seven weeks. The creatures in the Forbidden Forest are complaining of the stench."

"I am not having _her_ bath me."

"Ah. It's _her_ you object to. You don't want_ her_ to bath you. Now, that I can arrange."

Before either one of them could say anything, Hermione opened the door and entered. She moved towards the bed, and handed him the cup full of chicken broth. It was the same cup as before.

He wouldn't take it. "No more broth."

"It's thickened with gruel." She assured him.

Excellent! To him, gruel sounded like a feast. She let him take the mug, balancing it as if he were a child who might slop all over himself. As well as he might, he admitted. His hands trembled with weakness, and he wanted to swallow every bit at once. She wouldn't let him. She removed the mug after each swallow, and gave him water instead. And his stomack filled rapidly. He couldn't believe half a mug of broth and thin gruel satisfied him. Hermione understood him without him saying a word. Hickey hovered in background, watching him with an anxious faze that belied her previous curtness. Hermione handed her the mug. "Don't take it too far."

"You will want some more soon." Hickey told him. "Your stomach is shrunk. And that gruel is more than you've had in weeks."

He looked at his hands again. He stretched out his arms before him, the to the side, then back to meet in the middle. His muscles trembled form the effort, but muscles could be trained again, he decided. It was the other he didn't know about. "Will my memories return to me?"

"When you strength has returned to you." Hermione reassured him.

"Is that what the healer says?"

"I threw the healer out."

"So you know what you are talking about."

"No."

They remained silent for a while. After a couple of minutes, Hermione said, "We are going to give you a bath."

He shot a glance at Hickey, who nodded at him. Hermione saw this exchange, but remained silent.

"I am not getting naked in front of you, lass." Weasley whined.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "I don't see why not."

"You're not the brightest, and you're not bathing me."

"I am not the brightest?" Her eyes narrowed. "At least I know when I stink."

He did feel filthy, and since Hickey had mentioned it, he had noticed a bit of odor about him, but he wasn't about to admit it. "It's a good manly smell."

"If men smell something out of the rubbish heap. Maybe you can't smell yourself, but tell me the truth," her voice took a coaxing note – "doesn't your skin feel crusty?"

He wouldn't have some young female handling him as if he were a piece of meat. Especially not Hermione, who had already proved she could bring him to aching readiness with a feeble bit of a kiss. Hermione, a female who claimed to be his wife, who he had suspected of lying while hoping she told the truth so on some future date, he'd have the right to tumble her beneath him on a bed. "A bit of a wash won't do any good. If you are going to embarrass me, then give me a real bath in a tub."

"We can't. You can't walk. You're thinner, but you're still yoo bif for us to lift, and that's what it will take to get you into a tub."

"Are a witch or a not, woman? Just levitate me into a tub."

"What if I hurt you leg?" Hermione said.

"Oh, you won't be there. Hickey can supervise."

Obviously tempted, Hermione resisted.

"He is right, miss Hermione." Smoothly, Hickey took her cue. "We can enlarge the tub for Mr. Weasley, so he will be comfortable. I can levitate him."

"But why Hickey? Why not me?" Hermione asked Weasley.

He exchanged an exasperated glance with Hickey.

"Because he will not be pointing anything at me." Hickey said.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake! It's not as it I – " Hermione bit her lip.

"It's not if you what…?" He asked. _It's not as if she hadn't seen it before._ He could almost hear her speaking the words. But she didn't finish the thought. He detected a faint blush on her cheeks.

"Oh, all right. Hickey can give you a bath in the tub." Hermione summed up the topic, so she wouldn't have to talk about it anymore. "Since we are not going to bath him, let's exercise him." Hickey nodded and got around to the opposite side of the bed as Hermione.

They picked up his arms, and brought it over his head. Like a spectator, he watched as they turned his forearm. The muscles stretched and ached. His gut twisted at his helplessness and even though they made the effort for him, he found himself gasping for air.

"Let's give him some water," Hermione said.

"Yes, let's." He said sarcastically.

They glanced at him as if surprised to hear him speak, and he swore to himself this ould never happen again. Starting tomorrow, he would exercise himself. He would push himself to the limits of his endurance. He would stop worrying about the working of his mind and concentrate on the workings of his body until each joint and muscle moved with the strength and dexterity of a well-oiled steel. He accepted the water from Hermione, and asked, "Will I ever be able to stand on that leg?" He looked at the leg with the compound fracture.

"Yes!" The question surprised Enid. "Unless there is some damage I can't see, you will be able to stand and walk.

"I'll hold you to that promise, lass."

"You do that, sir, you do that." Hermione smoothed the covers over him.

* * *

A/N: I am extremely sorry that I didn't post up this chapter yesterday as promised, but I made it extra long, so if you guys will forgive me. Wow, I got nine review. Thank you so much. You guys are the best. One of my reviewers was surprised that I thought you guys might not like this story. I guess that's because I know I am not a great writer, I am just combining two things. I obviously like the story, but I need to know if you guys like it just as much. I am not used to getting such a good feedback. Keep it coming. Another one of my reviewers wants to know the story behind Snape and Lupin, and their significance to the story. I won't have their background in the story, but I will include a conversation between Snape, Lupin and Dumbledore in the next chapter. The next chapter should be up sometime next week, so check in then. Review please. I need to know what you guys think.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimers: I don't own the characters or the plot, in case you haven't noticed that I mentioned that in the earlier chapters. JKR owns the characters and Christina Dodd owns the plot.

Title: Deception

Author: SoniJanu54

_Previously in Chapter 6:_

"_Let's give him some water," Hermione said._

"_Yes, let's." He said sarcastically._

_They glanced at him as if surprised to hear him speak, and he swore to himself this would never happen again. Starting tomorrow, he would exercise himself. He would push himself to the limits of his endurance. He would stop worrying about the working of his mind and concentrate on the workings of his body until each joint and muscle moved with the strength and dexterity of a well-oiled steel. He accepted the water from Hermione, and asked, "Will I ever be able to stand on that leg?" He looked at the leg with the compound fracture._

"_Yes!" The question surprised Enid. "Unless there is some damage I can't see, you will be able to stand and walk._

"_I'll hold you to that promise, lass."_

"_You do that, sir, you do that." Hermione smoothed the covers over him._

_End of Chapter 6.

* * *

_

Chapter 7

Dumbledore was walking towards his office, while Severus Snape and Remus Lupin followed him. The castle was silent. Without any students, it seemed barren.

"Are you sure that it would be for the best if Weasley found out that he isn't...?" Lupin directed his question to Dumbledore's back.

"It would certainly delay his explosion when he finds out about the other thing." Dumbledore was being vague, but not without cause. There were paintings in every part of the castle, and not all of them were bound to serve the school.

"But what about Miss Granger?" Snape asked.

"Mrs. Weasley you mean." Dumbledore sighed. He didn't want to answer this question.

"Is it okay to use her?" Snape said when Dumbledore didn't continue.

Dumbledore turned to face him. "Using her is the only way to help Weasley recover. We agreed on that. And about the small deception…… we will deal with her when she finds out." Dumbledore started walking towards his office, but this time without anyone following him.

Changing the subject, Lupin asked Snape, "When is Meredith coming?" Meredith was Snape's sister. She was going to be Lupin's apprentice for DADA.

"Mere? She will be coming sometime today. I don't exactly know what time." Snape replied without any sneer. Contrary to the common belief, Snape did not snap at anyone who talked. He just enjoyed scaring the students.

* * *

Hermione sat alone in a rocking chair while Weasley was sleeping. His bath had exhausted him, but not hurt him. Hickey had supervised and everything had gone as planned. It was past dawn, but Weasley was sleeping the sleep of the innocent. She was alone in the room. Hickey had gone to the kitchens to visit her friends. The school was starting in a week. Hermione could hear the commotion as the teachers returned from their summer homes and started settling in the castle.

She studied Weasley's features. He looked so much better. His cheeks had filled out, and his eyes were no longer sunk in their sockets. His newly washed hair gleamed, and the scars that crisscrossed his face were pale and healed. His beard was shaved and she could now see his square jaw that jutted forward, giving his face character. His cheekbones were starkly high, and his poor broken nose had a hump that gave him a look of a ruthless thug. Perhaps when he regained his memory, he would school his features in a mean smile, and look like Frederick Weasley. Not like some stranger who tugged at her heart.

Well, she amended her thought, smiling, tugged at her heart when he was asleep anyway. When he was awake, he remained an arrogant, unpleasant jackass. Weasley seemed to stir. He stretched his arms like a cat as he watched her.

"Now that's a smile to make a man uneasy."

When Weasley was awake, blood raced through her veins, the air hurt to breathe and every moment she lived in fear…fear and anticipation. Because when he remembered… then everything would change….

He finished stretching, but still stared at her, observing her as she rocked her chair back and forth with slow, gentle motions. She refused to speed up just because he made her nervous; she would maintain an air of tranquility even if it killed her.

"How long have we been married?" he asked suddenly.

She froze. The rocking stopped. She balanced her toes on the floor and wondered if his mind, gone for so long, even now halted in its insatiable demand for information. "Nine years."

"Infidelity?"

"I don't think so," her eyes narrowed, "but I am sure there's been plenty since."

"I meant you!" He roared.

"Oh!" She lost all her serenity. "No, of course not. As if I would care enough to cheat."

That stung his manly pride; she could see it in the way his jaw tightened. She didn't care. In her opinion, he had too much pride without any good reason. She knew. She had shared a bed with him, and the experience was nothing to brag about. Yesterday's kiss couldn't change her mind about that. Trying to get him to talk about something less tense, she asked, "Would you like something to eat? I can get something."

"Yes." Apparently her lecture the day before had worked because he added, "please."

"Good. I am glad that you are hungry."

"Why? If you feel such indifference about me, why should you care if I live or die?"

So much for polite conversation. "The more you ear and drink, the farther away you get from death. I worked too hard for you just give up after you woke up. And besides, as soon as you get better, I can go back to my old life." She left the room to get some food for him before he could say anything. Let him think on that.

The trip to the kitchens took only a couple of minutes, but Hermione waited a few more minutes to make sure that Weasley would be calm before she entered the room.

"So we are estranged." Those were the first words out of Fred's mouth.

"Yes."

"Do you live in my home?"

"No."

"Women like to talk. They never shut up. Why won't you talk?"

She stayed silent just to defy him.

"Speak to me woman. Where have you been? What have you been doing?"

With more patient that was possible for any woman, she offered him a bowl of soup, and said, "I've lived in England."

"Alone?"

"Are you accusing me of having a lover?"

His gaze lingered on her lips, and him mouth quirked. "No. Not likely."

What did he mean by that, and why was he smiling?

"How long have you lived in England?"

"My whole life."

"You couldn't be more than twenty five."

"Twenty six."

"How old were you when you married me?"

"Seventeen."

"You were a child!"

"No, I was foolish."

"We were together less than a year then?"

"Very good. You paid attention to your mother when she taught you arithmetic. We were together for over three months."

"Now you are talking." He had the nerve to sound smug. "Could this get any worse? It just proves that alliance between Scots and English is impossible. I don't believe that I am married. I am too smart to wed an English."

Stupid donkey. Stupid man. "If Dumbledore was to play a trick on you, why would he try to dupe you by presenting you with a wife so distasteful to you?"

"You are not distasteful to me. You simple are difficult and sharp tongued." He had the fall to stroke his hand down her arm as if reassuring her.

"While you are the voice of wisdom and courtesy." She moved away from him. "We had no reason to believe that you'd wake without your memories."

"There is nothing worse than a female who had logic." He allowed.

"Unless it is a male who had none." He didn't acknowledge her hit. Of course not.

He took a spoonful of soup and ate it. It was more tasteful than before, but nothing like peaches.

"When can I have a peach? I dreamed of peaches while I slept, and I have a mighty taste for their sweet tender flesh." He said, grinning. Although he looked in her face, she could have sworn he spoke entirely of something else.

"Have you heard that the fastest way to man heart is through his stomach?" Weasley said.

"No, the fastest way to man's heart is through his chest," Hermione leaned in closer, "with a dagger."

Before they could continue this conversation, there was a knock on the door.

Hermione went to open the door and saw a young woman about her age looking at her with a smile and a bouquet of lilies.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?" She asked.

"Yes, and you are…?" Hermione asked. She had never seen this woman before, but something about her looked familiar. She had straight blach hair, and dark blue eyes. Her face was oval, and her eyes kind.

"Oh, I forgot, sorry. I am Meredith Snape, an apprentice to Professor Lupin."

"Snape?"

"Sev is my step brother." She entered the room and looked around. She moved towards the window, transfigured a small stone into a vase and put the flowers in there.

"They should be fresh for about three weeks." She added. She definitely did not have the Snape personality. She smile often and liked flowers. That was the definite opposite of Snape.

"Oh! You hair is down. Would you like me to braid if for you?" Meredith moved behind Hermione and started parting her hair by the time Hermione had consented.

"Look at this! You ar so lucky. My hair is straight and fine, but this – this is magnificent." Turning to Fred, she asked. "Don't you just love her hair?"

"It's gorgeous." Fred said. He felt left out now. The women started chattering about dresses and hair styles, and an instant friendship formed.

Fred looked at them. They reminded him of his sister and her silly friends, always giggeling for no reason and talking when they had nothing to say…

Wait… his sister?

* * *

A/N: I am not very satisfied with this chapter. I wanted it to be longer, but oh well. Thank you guys so much for the reviews. You are amazing. The next chapter will have an accident with Fred, and a furious Hermione. If I made any mistakes in this chapter, feel free to tell me. Review please. 


End file.
